


The Right Kind Of Wrong

by Soul4Sale



Series: I Know I'm Lost, I'm Lost With You [1]
Category: South Park
Genre: Anal, Anal Fingering, Bottom!Firkle, Christmas Tree Discourse, Christmas-Flavored, Fluff, Gay, Inappropriate Petnames, M/M, Oral, PWP, Rimming, Slash, Smut, Underwear Kink, Vague Daddy Kink, Yaoi, cursing, top!kevin, unbeta’d
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8836468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul4Sale/pseuds/Soul4Sale
Summary: Christmas Tree Discourse seems like the best action in order to get Firkle to bed. Neither of them understand how it worked.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Spinestalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spinestalker/gifts).



> Digging up my Christmas prompts from last year again. ouo I recently got into this ship and needed to write for them. ; u; I do hope you guys enjoy! This is a gift to my friend Tweektrash/Spinestalker.
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt: TREE DECORATING (bonus points if one of them is doing it completely wrong omg why am i in love with you)

“No, no, _no_.” Stormy blue eyes were wide as Firkle finally peeked up from his work, “We are _not_ going to have this… Hideous abomination in our apartment.”

 

“Hideous?” Kevin started, before pausing, “ _Our_ apartment?”

 

“Tinsel does not… It’s not supposed to cover the whole damn tree.” Crossing his arms, the goth huffed a little and put on his most precious of pouts, “Where are we going to put the ornaments? My stupid popcorn thing I’ve been working on for two hours?” He had the pricks in his fingers to attest to that. Blatantly ignoring the second question, he continued, “Plus, silver is such a devastatingly bright color, don’t you think? We should dye it black.”

 

“Black isn’t really a Christmas color…” The elder replied, scratching at his stubbled chin and absently debating shaving.

 

“Neither of us are really Christians.” Came the easy response, to which the brunet finally turned his head and looked at his smaller lover.

 

Firkle was beautiful like this, his hair disheveled, makeup removed, and wearing one of Kevin’s oversized shirts. He’d chosen possibly the most threadbare sweater that the elder owned, and it hung off his small frame like it had been draped over him like that on purpose. For a moment, the eldest McCormick thought he could be some kind of fancy marble statue, like the ones in the museum they’d gone to before, but he shook the thought when he heard the other’s tone of voice grow sharp.

 

“Hey, I’m talking to you.” At some point, Firkle had risen and walked over to him, waving a sweater-clad hand in his face, “Earth to asshole, listen!”

 

“Huh? What?” It came out a bit snappier than he’d originally intended, but his grumpy frown and crossed arms seemed to only egg the smaller on more.

 

“I _said_ ,” Firkle began again, his tone harsh but the light in his eyes proving this was a game to him, “That we aren’t really Christians. You don’t care much for it, and I worship something else completely.” Right. Every time Kevin was reminded of Cthulhu he had to suppress a shudder. That thing had done more damage than it should have been allowed.

 

“Well… Yeah.” Okay, so maybe he sounded kind of stupid, now, the way he’d given an awkward reply instead of the fight that the younger obviously wanted, but he just wasn’t feeling it tonight. There came a time when the elder just wanted to have a normal night in, no fighting, no yelling, no threats. They had both come from that shit, and he wanted little more than to just try and forget all of that.

 

A sigh left the goth, and he tried his best to adjust the fit of the sweater over his shoulder, but it wouldn’t stay for long. Running a hand over Kevin’s cheek, he toyed with the roughness of his stubble and smiled slightly. He remembered a time when Michael and Pete had struggled with their own facial hair, while he’d never had much of an issue with it. He liked to be smooth, thankfully, or it probably would have been another thing to add to his list of problems with his body.

 

“I’m thinking about shaving.” The eldest McCormick offered absently, his own hands instinctively going to Firkle’s hips. He was quietly thankful that he wasn’t all that much taller than the other, because sometimes holding him at arm’s reach was necessary, even if he was tugging him closer, right now. 

 

“Don’t you dare.” No matter the fact it was meant to be a threat and his voice was too quiet, too complacent to really hold water. It was punctuated by a little gasp when Kevin brushed his cheek to the younger’s neck and jawline, and he sighed softly, almost too tell-tale.

 

“You like it?” Most people would have complained they were kissing and cuddling a cactus, but he knew that Firkle was odd when it came to sensations. He loved pain, sought it out regularly. Maybe that was why he always wanted to fight.

 

“...I do.” The response came a little slower than he’d expected, his head tipping to allow more space for the other to press his face in. A shocked yelp burst forth from him the second he felt teeth at the juncture of neck and shoulder, and he clung to the other a bit weakly the second he felt his knees buckle. Those strong arms gripped his waist and drew him into the stronger male’s arms, keeping him still while he sucked and licked at the inevitable mark he was forming. The pair of them enjoyed leaving as many little reminders of their relationship as possible, even if Firkle was the one who left them in the most conspicuous places. 

 

A kiss to his own neck had Kevin giving pause; he knew that, had Firkle not been nude of all of his makeup (which he still thought ridiculous), there would have been lipstick marks all over him in seconds. Still, he was thankful that he could see the goth in all of his freckled, pale glory. Sure, the kid could practically glow in the dark he was so white, but it wasn’t necessarily something he didn’t enjoy. He’d never had to do anything in the sun without ten pounds of makeup on every inch of exposed skin, and there was a part of him that was proud he made enough money to help keep it that way. 

 

Then there was the part that didn’t like the taste of concealer and lipstick. That, and the nights he felt particularly inclined to, he would worship that thin body with his tongue, dragging it from dot to dot and making pictures in his head. His favorite spot was a clump on the other’s shoulder blade, almost big enough to look like a mole. Upon closer inspection, the dark brown marks were simply just too close to each other to be fully distinguishable, and it always made him smile when he’d bite at it and leave the other whining. Of course, it could have just been the use of teeth that had the smaller male turning to putty in his hands.

 

Distracted by a small push of those bony fingers against his chest, the elder pulled back and blinked down at his lover, as if he’d been so lost in thought he’d missed half of what he was saying. Again.

 

“Down, boy.” Firkle was laughing a little, even if hearing such a thing from him was still odd, “We need to finish this God-awful tree of ours before we get going on something like that or the whole thing will be for not. I didn’t sit there making that stupid popcorn chain for the last two hours just so we can forget about it.”

 

“But… Don’t you want to forget about it?” Honestly, the goth was particularly full of contradictions tonight. He obviously wanted to fuck, and the tree would wait, it wasn’t going anywhere. “Anyway, popcorn on the tree attracts mice and rats.” 

 

“We never had a problem with them.” Plus, the popcorn garland thing had always been Francine’s favorite part about Christmas, and this was a little bit of a shout-out to his sister. 

 

“Of course, you didn’t. You lived on the right side of town.” Kevin scoffed, shaking his head, “Fine, let’s get your stupid popcorn thing on the tree, and then I’m carrying you to the bedroom to thoroughly fuck your brains out so you don’t have to think about it ever again.”

 

Which, in his defense, had been something he’d heard the other saying, among his cursing and occasional bargaining techniques with himself.

 

“Oh, is that so?” The grin in his voice belied the frown on his lips, and the goth knew he was sunk. “Fine, everything else can be done in the morning. I’ll do it while you’re at work so this tree doesn’t look like it was vomited on by some faggy vampire kid’s wet dream.”

 

“...I really didn’t need that image in my head.” The brunet responded, a wrinkle to his nose as he leaned in to kiss the other’s forehead, “Let’s just get this done so I can watch you fall apart.”

 

Rose blossomed against the smaller’s pale face and he simply nodded, hesitantly pulling out of the warm embrace and heading back to his spot on the floor where he’d left the stupid masterpiece he’d wasted time on. He hated this ugly thing, but if he really thought about it, he’d never liked them. Why he’d sunk to a tradition he and his sister had had when they’d lived with their parents, even he didn’t know. He supposed it was so ingrained into him, like Kevin and his gross silver tinsel, that it really couldn’t be helped.

 

Still, that crap was coming down the second the elder left for work.

 

At least, he could be thankful that Kevin was tall enough to put the campy little chain on the top part of the tree. It took a solid ten minutes to get the thing hung up over all of that shiny monstrosity, and by the time Firkle was bent over to put the rest of it on the bottom, he found a rather hard prick poking his posterior as his lover pressed into his rear. It was at this point that he realized his careful measuring and wasted time had come up a bit short.

 

“Shit.”

 

“What?”

 

“...It’s too short.”

 

“I thought you measured it, smarty--”

 

“Don’t start or I’ll bite your dick off.”

 

“We have a gag for just such an occasion.” Kevin’s smirk could be heard in his voice, and it only made Firkle groan in defeat.

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Fuck you, too.” Easing himself down the smaller’s back to kiss at his neck and nuzzle at the hair at the nape of his neck, Kevin wrapped his arms around his stomach and hugged him. “Can’t it wait? I think we both could use some relief.” 

 

Either from stress or the fact that Firkle could feel another twitch of arousal through the thin pyjama pants the other wore; it was a guess he didn’t quite want to make right now. 

 

Now that he thought about it, the inane puncturing of his fingers was _not_ going to be wasted if he just finished it up tomorrow morning. After all, he’d have a good portion of the day before it was time of for him to try and go out job hunting again, so he really could just spend his morning pouring his entire creative mind to this. 

 

Or, more likely, he would curse and kick the thing off the tree and just deal with it’s obnoxious silvery tint while he enjoyed three pots of coffee so he wouldn’t snap off someone’s head and eat it.

 

The insistent grinding of his elder lover drew Firkle back out of his thoughts, and he found himself looking back at the taller man with a mixture of lust and frustration on his face.

 

“You know, I’d almost bet that you’ve been planning this. Cover this stupid, fake tree with ugly-ass tinsel and fuck me so that I can’t say ‘no’.” Considering his only response was a shit-eating grin as he was hefted up by his hips, earning a yelp and moan, he figured that had, indeed, been the plan.

 

With the smell of his back pressed to Kevin’s muscular shoulder, and his bouncing a little against the other’s back, he knew any second, now--

And, there it was. 

 

Fingers digging into his hip were to be expected, as soon as the elder had found out how sensitive those piercings were, he could hardly help himself half the time. But the ones that snaked between his thighs to grip them, teasing at his half-hard cock through the thin underwear he wore, those were the ones to watch out for. The sneaky ones.

 

Pulling a strangled moan from his captive, the elder male nearly smirked at how easy it was to play Firkle like a fiddle. Half of him had a hard time keeping back that thought, most of the time, but today it seemed his desire was keeping his mouth closed. At the very least, when he pressed his lips to the other’s hip, he managed not to say anything.

 

Finally tossing the other onto the bed, he grinned down at how he’d fallen, ass in the air and face in their pillows, and one leg out trying to balance him. _Well,_ he thought, _I can help with that._ Reaching forward to tug him to the edge of the bed, Kevin wasted no time in giving a good, solid grind on that supple little ass of his. Like this, he could almost nudge between the other’s cheeks, and he had half a mind to tease them both through their clothing for a bit.

 

That all came crashing down the second that Firkle lifted his leg again, pressing it to his chest, exposing just how hard he was in those silly little black undies he’d bought online. Sure, they looked good on him, but Kevin always felt odd about the odd symbols on a lot of Firkle’s clothes. Just _once_ he would enjoy seeing him in some lacy, frilly thing that didn’t have to do with the occult. Even still, it was hard to deny the black fabric straining to hold back the smaller’s tucked prick.

 

“You want me, baby?” Kevin questioned, his voice practically a purr.

 

“Fuck.. Do you really need to ask?” Firkle shot back, peering over his shoulder as much as this position would allow. 

 

“I want to hear you say it.”

 

“Fuck. Me.” Growled out words were almost garbled by a thick, heady moan, that had Kevin’s jaw clenching and his body rolling forward again. If he could go a day only hearing those sweet, perfect sounds from Firkle, then he’d be set for life. Of course, there was always some kind of complaint leaving the smaller male if he wasn’t getting pounded into his (their?) bed. Or the kitchen table, the couch, the floor, the shower. Anywhere, really, that they decided to accomplish such a feat. 

 

“You’re going to have to be patient, babe.” The easy drawl of the elder’s voice was only punctuated by the sound of the cap popping on the top of the lube. Firkle was left wondering when he’d had enough time to grab it and how he hadn’t noticed. A lot of things he did with Kevin usually ended up feeling like giant black holes in his ability to keep track of time. Sudden, slick fingers pressed to the tight pucker of his asshole, and he shuddered slightly.

 

“That’s fucking cold…” He mumbled, only getting a bark of laughter from his lover.

 

“It’ll warm up, don’t worry.” Chuckling, Kevin busied his mouth with biting and sucking at Firkle’s thighs, all the while pushing two fingers inside of his tight entrance. “God, I’m going to wreck your tight little pussy, you know that?” It wasn’t like he was anything to sneeze at. Each time, unless they were just continuing a session, he’d have to stretch the smaller. Maybe it was one of his favorite parts; maybe it was watching the demanding, haughty goth turn into a mewling, compliant little slut. Of course, he’d never call him that to his face outside of such a situation.

 

“Mn, do it and we’ll see how wrecked I am.” Firkle whined, the fingers inside of him crooking into his prostate to leave his sentence ending in a yowl of pleasure. With a smirk, another finger was added as he slicked the smaller up, biting bruises into his thighs and sinking his teeth into his ass as if to ward off any supposed suitors. Each bite had a small, gasped moan leaving the younger male, who became a whimpering, quivering mess by the time Kevin’s fourth finger had been inserted and he worked him over expertly. Mouthing the younger’s balls lovingly, he left them both dripping wet and aching by the time he was done.

 

“Think you’re ready?” He questioned, absently rubbing his scruffy face against some of the bruises he’d left, enjoying the canting of hips and breathless whine that left the younger. Taking that as a ‘yes’, he slowly pulled his fingers from the other’s hungry hole, watching the tether of lube connecting them for a moment before slathering whatever lube was left on his hand over his cock. He could feel eyes watching him, his head falling back for a second as he moaned loud and obnoxious.

 

“You better not finish off on my back, Kevin McCormick, or I will kick your ass into the next century.” Again, a hollow threat. The brunet had found that a good portion of Firkle’s threats were scary, but he wouldn’t follow through unless it was something really serious. It was that thought that had him wanting to, but there was also the idle speculation that he would, likely, have to deal with his lover complaining about it the rest of the night and he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

 

Instead, he leaned over the other’s arched back, gripping his hips tight enough to bruise around the studs in them, and bit into the other’s shoulder. Once he was secure, anchored down to his thin lover, his hips snapped forward hard enough to almost scoot Firkle right up the bed. The subsequent howl of pleasure only put a light in his eye as he sunk his teeth harder into the soft, giving flesh in his mouth. It didn’t help that the poor thing beneath him practically turned into a puddle of moans and need. Firkle was so damn _close_ , and the stuttering thrusts given to him made it more obvious that Kevin was getting there, too. 

 

“K-Keeeeeeeeeeev~” Firkle tried, eyelids clamped shut tight and hands fisting the sheets, “’Cmon, daddy, give it to me…” 

 

At one point, Kevin had wondered about the pet name that Firkle liked to use for him, in private _or_ public. After all, it wasn’t like he was really _that_ much older than him. Had he been a smart man, he probably would have wondered if it actually bothered him. The thought that most people used ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ for their significant other made it seem less creepy, somehow. 

 

“You got it, babe.” Speaking of. At any rate, he finally forced those pretty thighs to spread further, laying Firkle’s hips flat on the bed as he rocked and ground forward, thumbs pressed into the ‘MURDERTRAMP’ tattoo above his ass crack. Edgelord.

 

A few solid seconds of that, combined with the roughness of the low-thread count sheets on his over-sensitive cock, and Firkle was _gone_. He came with a loud, strangled shout, his hips jerking forward, then back, and that sweet, tight ass of his trying to milk Kevin for all he was worth. The second he felt that spasming, velveteen grip on his prick he knew it was the end of the line; his thrusts were no longer controlled, not even a little bit, as he chased his own orgasm, continuing to pound into the other until he had finished. 

 

Blissed out was an understatement right now, but the elder knew better than to try and crush the goth beneath his body. That had happened one time, and he had a scar to prove why he wasn’t the only one in this relationship that could hold his own in a fight. If nothing else, having a little spitfire for a boyfriend made things interesting.

 

Rolling over, his arms wrapped around Firkle’s chest to draw him in, hold him close to his chest. Kissing over the bruises and hickies he’d left behind, he pet a hand over the corset piercing on the other’s side.

 

“Feel better…?”

 

Firkle smirked a little, shaking his head; all Kevin saw was the dark hair slowly filtering into his face. 

“No? What more--” And then those green eyes shot as wide as dinner plates for just a second. Of _course_ , he knew better. The beautiful minx in his arms always had his eye on the prize, and he had a thing for Kevin’s mouth that he had a hard time denying. “Oh.”

 

“Damn right, _oh_. Get to it.” Always so demanding. Firkle was lucky that he had enough patience to deal with this shit, especially when he was still so close to post-coitus and his dick was too sensitive to move. Really, if he could, he would have held onto the other, forced him into submission and cuddled him until he fell asleep, still inside.

 

But Firkle would have had his head on a silver platter by morning, and he knew better. Plus, the younger liked to sleep clean, which meant he had some work to do if he didn’t want to be teased in the shower.

 

Slipping his sopping dick free and giving a whine at the way it felt when cold air hit him, Kevin sighed a little as he kissed his way down. Pulling the panties from his lover’s hips, filthy as they were, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling them to his face for a moment, taking a deep breath. 

 

He had been caught before doing this kind of thing, soaking in the scent of Firkle’s arousal leftover in his underwear. At first, the goth was a little put off, but honestly, there were worse things that he could be into. Watching him take his time, his cock twitching in interest, was enough to have the younger male hard again and bucking his hips. 

 

“Don’t forget about me~” He offered softly, the bite tampered by the latent lust that had taken hold of him. 

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Kevin smirked a little, looking up from his prize, “I won’t.”

 

Dividing his thighs easily, he lapped at the mess against them, cleaning him thoroughly in thick swatches, tasting himself and Firkle both mixed when he started in towards his prick. Sucking him for a few moments until the thin film of his orgasm had been cleaned away, he was proud when he found the other hard and pulsing against his belly when he let it pop from his lips. 

 

Glancing up, his heart jumped in his chest, pounding against his ribs at the sheer amount of sexuality in the pose Firkle had taken up. One arm behind his head, holding the pillow close so he could somewhat lean up, lower lip between his teeth and eyes hazed with lust. God, he’d never forget such a sight in his life.

 

“Kev _in_.” The whine brought him back out of his reverie, and he smirked a bit before continuing, slipping down to run his tongue over the younger boy’s taint. He pressed it in at the right spot to hit his prostate, making the demanding goth fall back to the bed limply, a low moan on his lips. Yes, that was obviously what he’d wanted this entire time.

 

Finally sliding back to the other’s hungry little pucker, he licked over him for a few moments, loving the pulse of the muscle as it grasped for his tongue. Half of him wanted to draw it out, but he was smart enough not to keep the goth waiting too long. That was _always_ something that lead to trouble. Finally pushing inside, tasting the other, he became a whole different animal.

 

Greedily working his tongue inside the younger, he scooped out mouthfuls of cum, cleaning him out fairly well, fairly quickly, and working him up to his next orgasm like a good boyfriend. Reaching up to stroke the other, he happily listened to his grunting, sloppy sounds mixing with Firkle’s screams and choked sobs of pleasure.

 

At this point, Kevin could hardly keep his own hand off of himself, stroking his cock in time to the frantic pace of his tongue. He was going to get them off again, and it was going to be a mess, and Firkle was going to _deal with it_. There was no amount of patience in the world that could have kept him from finding that perfect, promised orgasm again, and he finally started to buck into his own hand.

 

Second orgasms were always more explosive, Firkle thought, finding his mind leaving him absolutely as soon as he felt that twist in his stomach. A loud scream left him, and he shoved the other down, legs clinging to his head to try and shove him closer. At this point, the brunet had figured out most of Firkle’s sex habits, and depriving his lovers of air seemed to be a particular favorite.

 

When he finally pulled up, his mouth went back to work on the other’s stomach and cock, laving over him and sucking hickies into his pale skin. The wait between his small lover’s orgasm and Kevin crawling up over him and pressing his weeping dick to his lips was almost nonexistent, and Firkle opened his mouth obediently enough.

 

Smearing the opalescent liquid over the goth’s lips, the elder couldn’t help the way he just wanted to ruin him. After all, he looked pretty good with his new lipstick. A moment or two more of this and he finally sunk inside, the tight, hot, wet heat almost too much. He didn’t even have himself all the way down that delicious throat, yet, but here he was, getting pretty close already.

 

Two minutes or less, that was all it took, that talented mouth drawing more than just his orgasm from him; Kevin couldn’t stop screaming his head off. With one last thrust pushing him all the way down, he finally pulled back when he was done, flopping over to be sure he didn’t crush the smaller male beneath him. It was an absent thought, but he didn’t like the idea of being threatened post-coitus. 

 

After a couple minutes, gaining their breath and trying to find where they’d misplaced their brains, Kevin cleared his throat a little, even if he still sounded hoarse when he spoke.

 

“Satisfied, now?”

 

“...Yes, but your stupid ugly tinsel is still on my nerves.” Tugging the smaller closer, until there wasn’t a breath of air between them, the elder smirked.

 

“I would have thought the fact that I made you cream your underwear and my sweater would have pissed you off more.” He whispered, licking over the shell of his ear and getting a shudder in return.

 

“You’re such a fucking dick.” Laughter sparked from the goth regardless, who turned to plant a kiss on his lover’s nose. “Fine, I’m pissed at you and not the tree, happy?”

 

“Mmm… You’re not _really_ mad at me, so yes.”

 

“...I’m not?” Scoffing, blue eyes rolled and he shook his head, “God, I hate men.”

 

“Firk, I--”

 

“Don’t say it. I know.” Grabbing the blanket and tugging it up over them, he finally sighed, “Goodnight, dickhole.”

 

“Night, slut.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! I really didn’t expect that to happen. O.o It sort of ran away from me, but I really enjoy this. I hope you guys do, too!


End file.
